How You Remind Me
by Violet Raven
Summary: Darien's got an addiction.


How You Remind Me ****

How You Remind Me

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By: Bre the Cheez

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Rating: PG-13

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Summary: Short little piece I wrote at 2 am. All Darien wants is a decent night of sleep, and he'll do whatever it takes to get it.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story, except the story-line. All else belongs to higher powers, including I-Man, and the title, an awesome Nickelback song.

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Author's Note: This really doesn't have a specific setting, but it's set somewhere after Brother's Keeper, so there are slight spoilers from that, but nothing major, mostly just material from my warped imagination. Hope you like it- read and review please!

~*~*~

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Darien was running. His legs ached, and his throat burned, but he didn't stop. Taking a quick look behind him, he saw the man he was running from gaining on him. The man chasing him was a little shorter than Darien, with a dark blue suit and neatly combed hair.

"You can't run forever, Fawkes," the voice yelled after him in a Swiss accent. He seemed to be having a considerably easier time running for some reason, and was not breathing heavily. He was now only about a foot or so behind Darien.

There was no reply. Darien couldn't speak even if he wanted to, his throat was so raw from running. He looked down and watched as the ground changed from grass to sand. Confused, he looked as his surroundings and noticed that he was no longer in the park, but at the beach. It was void of people at the moment, even though the sun was shining brightly.

The sand caused Darien to become clumsier than usual, and he struggles to keep his feet from shifting in the sand on impact. Once or twice he had to throw his hands out to keep his balance, and that did nothing for his slowing speed. 

"I'll always be faster than you," the voice came, quieter this time since he was walking alongside of Darien. He was having to trouble walking on the sand, even in his expensive dress shoes. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he had a superior grin on his face, as if he knew something the man next to him didn't.

"Fuck you, Arnaud," Darien snarled between breaths. He shifted his eyesight to his feet. He was running still, but Arnaud was walking right next to him. Darien struggled to hide his confusion.

"That wasn't a very nice thing to say," Arnaud commented, but didn't seem hurt in the least. He shrugged. "Oh well. I guess I've toyed with you enough." 

He held his arm in front of Darien, and stopped him. Darien fell to the ground which was now once again concrete. He hit his head, and his vision blurred for a moment, then returned to normal. But when he could see ahead of him again, there was a silver gun pointed directly at his face. Before he could protest, he watched two pale fingers pull the trigger.

Darien sat straight up in his bed, covered in a thin, cold layer of sweat, gasping for breath. This hadn't been the first nightmare this week, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. For weeks his sleep had been interrupted with nightmares. He had tried different things in the past weeks to get some sleep for once, but nothing had worked. Just a week ago, however, he had found something that had begun to help.

He rubbed his bloodshot eyes, and reached onto his nightstand to grab a bottle of pills. He swallowed a couple and placed them back next to his lamp. Darien sank down into his bed and pulled his covers over him, knowing he would have to be ready for work tomorrow. He really needed to be able to sleep for the next two hours before he had to get up and leave. He set the alarm clock for fifteen minutes later than usual, then closed his eyes, praying that sleep would come quickly for him.

~*~*~

****

"Darien," a melodic, female voice asked from her seat behind a microscope the next day, a British accent making her sound more professional. "Could you hand me that petrie dish?"

Darien ruffled his spiky brown hair in confusion. He turned around in a circle slowly, looking for something that looked even remotely like a dish. He came up with nothing. "What the hell is a petrie dish?"

The voice came back higher, in disbelief. "You don't know? Didn't you ever take chemistry, or at least watch Kevin when you were younger?"

The confused man shook his head. "Sorry, Claire, but science isn't my thing. What is it?"

Claire stood up from her seat, and pushed her perfectly curled, long blonde hair behind her shoulders, walking over to the table Darien was standing next to. She picked up a clear, glass dish with a green liquid in the center. Holding it up to his face, she noted, "This is a petrie dish." Then she turned around, placed the dish under the microscope, and sat back down. 

Darien stood uncomfortably in the middle of The Keep, waiting to see if she wanted him to leave. He didn't exactly know what he was doing there in the first place, but Claire had asked him to stay down with her to "help out". Darien wondered how in the world he could possibly be of use to her in her own lab, of which he had no knowledge of to begin with, but he still stayed.

"So what are you doing, anyway, Keeps?" Darien stroked the stubble on his chin, musing over the woman in front of him. She couldn't be more than a couple years older then him, but she certainly acted older, and knew more than Darien could ever comprehend. He didn't even pretend to be able to read her. Most of the time she would keep her face a mask, which made Darien feel even worse because he could never tell when she was lying to him. He wondered if she lied to him a lot, or if she had maybe told the truth every time he asked her something. Darien had a feeling, a strong feeling, that the first one was true. Not that he didn't trust Claire- well, maybe he didn't completely trust her- but The Agency denied her the privilege of honesty. However, he had never gotten over the fact that she refused to give her last name to both Darien, and his partner and best friend, Robert Hobbes. Maybe she had her good reasons. Darien really wasn't one to judge- it would be hypocritical, him being the thief, and her being a fairly respectable scientist for the government. 

"Well, actually I'm trying to find out what exactly is in this sample," she said absent-mindedly, focusing intently and completely on the image before her. 

Darien decided it best not to ask more questions, knowing that she was completely engrossed in her work, as usual. So he walked around the lab a little, realizing for the first time that he had never really taken in the sight, never understood what was actually happening in The Keep. He looked down on the table in front of him. It was full of syringes and papers: all scientific things that made no impact whatsoever on Darien. He absently noticed that there was one syringe filled with clear liquid, while the other three were blue. He shrugged, and continued, until the door slid open, revealing a very upset-looking Bobby Hobbes.

"Woah, there, Hobbes," Darien commented. "What's going on?" He placed his hands in the pockets of his brown pants and walked over to his partner. "You look pissed."

"Yeah, well, maybe that's because I am," Hobbes retorted, skipping the greetings. 

Claire looked up at him, a concerned expression on her face. "What's wrong?"

Hobbes breathed out and shook his head. "Just having a bad day already. It's only 8 in the morning, and I have been through heavy traffic with idiot drivers, got chewed out by The Fat Man for being late, and now I have to come down here." Then he realized what he had said. "Not that the last part was bad, it's actually a relief to be down in the Keep with you guys, it's nice and quiet."

Claire laughed lightly, and smiled at the balding man. "Bobby…"

Darien nodded at Claire, knowingly. "Must be a New York thing," he joked.

A glare was Hobbes' response to Darien. "It's not a damn New York thing, okay?" He tried to calm down. "Sorry. Mondays are not exactly my favorite days of the week."

"Well I happen to like Mondays," Darien said with a mischievous grin on his face. He put an arm around Claire's shoulder. "I get to see Claire's smiling face in the morning."

Claire laughed a little. "Yeah, right."

Hobbes gave his friend a strange look. "What's with the good mood, huh? 

Darien dismissed it with a wave. "I'm just having a good day. Guess I woke up on the right side of the bed for one."

Bobby shook his head. "No, you've been broody for weeks, mostly since, y'know, the whole… Kevin incident. Now all of a sudden today you're in this good mood? I don't think so, my friend." He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for his partner's excuse, which, odds were he wasn't going to believe. It was just how Darien worked. He would lie about his current condition, good or bad, blowing it off as nothing. 

"God, Hobbes, it's nothing." Darien looked incredulous. "I just got some extra sleep, that's all. And it's not really any of your business to begin with!"

When there was no response, Darien glared and left the room, leaving his two friends gaping in the silence. 

Hobbes spoke first. "Did you…?"

Claire nodded.

"Cuz I mean…"

"I know," Claire replied.

"Is he…?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should go talk to him." She was worried about the younger man. It wasn't like him to just change form depressed to happy within days for no explanation, then blow up at his best friend for being concerned about him. She knew something was going on, she just wished that she knew what.

~*~*~

"Hey, Fawkes, wait up!" Bobby called after his friend from across the parking lot. He ran after Darien and caught up to him eventually, before he got into his car. "Where the hell do you think you're going? We need to talk to The Official in twenty minutes. You can't just leave."

Fawkes didn't stop. "Watch me." 

Hobbes grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from opening the car door. "What is going on with you? Is there something wrong? Cuz you know you can talk to me, or Claire."

"Yeah, I know. But since there's nothing wrong, I guess that would be a waste of both of our time, right? Besides, I just need to get away, so I'm going for breakfast."

"You want some company?" Hobbes was a little apprehensive about leaving Fawkes by himself, for some reason. Unfortunately Darien didn't want company.

"Nah, no need. I'll be back, ok?" He stepped into his car, shut the door, and rolled the window down. "Sorry about getting so upset in the Keep." With that, he drove away and out of sight. 

Once he was gone, Hobbes realized that he had dropped something. Realizing that the car was too far away to get his attention, Hobbes bent down and picked up a small bottle full of pills. 

"What the…" He noticed that there was no identification on the bottle, the paper had been anxiously ripped off, from what Hobbes could tell, so he had no idea what was inside. He sighed, and carefully put them into his coat pocket, and walked back into The Agency. Deciding against telling anyone about what he found, he said nothing, and waited for Darien to come back.

~*~*~

Darien got home after work, curious why Bobby had actually dropped his earlier concern, and why he had barely said anything to him after he got back from McDonald's. That behavior was strange coming from Hobbes. 

He walked into his apartment, shut the door, and dropped his keys on the kitchen counter. He sighed, wanting nothing but to get some sleep and get the week over. Sleep, however, had not been the easiest thing to come by lately. Darien would close his eyes, and his cluttered mind would not grant him the desired unconsciousness that came with sleep. For the last couple days since he had been taking his pills, however, his dreams had become less frequent and he was able to get more sleep.

It was late. He had worked all day on a case that had seemed easier than it was, and fortunately it had been solved within the same day he had found out about it. Still, he had gotten home at 1 am, with no overtime pay. Not that he even expected it. He just wanted to get home earlier since he had to get to work again in 7 hours. It didn't leave much time for sleeping. 

He slipped his coat off and fumbled around in his pocket. He realized they were empty and dropped the brown leather jacket onto the floor and kicked it across the room. "Fuck!"

He raised his fist and brought it down harshly on the counter, leaving a dent in the marble, and spots of blood from his hand. He grabbed his head and slid down against the wall, his knees brought up to his chin. He felt hot tears fall from his eyes in frustration, and he fiercely wiped them away, cradling his injured hand in his other arm, trying to ignore the flashes of pain that came with it.

Darien knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep without his pills, but he had no idea where they were. Had he dropped them at The Agency? God, he hoped not. He couldn't take the looks from his only true friends, the looks of disappointment and concern radiating from their faces. 

Hobbes… He had been acting strange almost all day. He could have found them. Not exactly a good thing. Darien stood up slowly, slightly weak from exhaustion, and wiped the tears from his face. He had to get the pills back from Bobby, if he had them. 

Picking up the phone, Darien dialed the familiar numbers of his friend's house, and waited, listening to the ringing. After three rings, Hobbes picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hobbes? Hey, it's Darien." He rubbed the back of his neck in anticipation. He was nervous for some reason, and he wondered what was going through Hobbes' mind at the moment.

"What's up?" Bobby asked after a slight hesitation. 

"Do you… Do you have something of mine? I think I may have dropped them earlier…"

Hobbes paused. "If you mean the pills, then yeah, I have 'em."

"Look, I really need those. Do you think I can swing by your place and get them?" Darien really wasn't up for driving, but he was desperate. He wanted sleep so badly. And he knew it wasn't going to come without the help of his pills, even if he didn't want to have to face Hobbes in order to get them.

"Fawkes, I think we should talk about this…"

"There's nothing to talk about," Darien said, cutting him off. "Can I come by or not?"

He heard a sigh from the other end, and a shifting noise. Hobbes was actually uncomfortable, Darien realized. He had been friends with Bobby for about a year, and there weren't very instances where he was uncomfortable.

"Yeah. You can come by." Disappointment was evident in Hobbes' voice, and Darien knew it was going to be a hassle getting his pills from his partner. It was too late for a big discussion.

"Thanks. I'll be fast, I promise, then you can get to bed, okay?" He hung up, threw on his jacket, and ran outside into the storm that had just started.

~*~*~

Hobbes hung up the phone and leaned back into the couch. He pulled his black bathrobe tighter around himself and wondered what he was going to do. He held the bottle of pills in between his fingers, and moved it around in his hands for a little while. Why would Darien have these? Well, for all he knew they were just aspirin, but then why would Fawkes bother ripping off the label? It was as though he didn't want anyone to know what they were. Maybe that was true. That worried Hobbes more than he had expected.

Fifteen minutes later, Darien came to the door and knocked a few times. Hobbes hurried to the door, and after making sure it was actually Fawkes, he opened it and let the shivering man inside. He was soaking wet, and Hobbes looked to see that it was raining pretty hard. 

"You want something? A towel or a blanket maybe?"

Fawkes shook his head. "No, I need to get back, thanks." He crossed his arms and rubbed his arms trying to warm up. 

Bobby looked at his partner, and noticed his hand was wrapped tightly in a piece of cloth. "What happened to your hand?" 

"Nothing, I had a little accident that's all." Fawkes gave him a look, and Bobby knew that he shouldn't push the matter further. But that only caused his curiosity to grow. 

Hobbes exhaled. "Before I give these to you, I want to know what you're doing with them? And the truth, or else I'm keeping them."

Fawkes sat down, looking a little dismayed. He obviously didn't want to talk about this. "Look, I just… they help me sleep, that's all."

"Help you sleep? Why? Are you okay?" Hobbes immediately went into concern mode. 

Darien really didn't want to have to go into this so early in the morning. "No, I'm fine. I just think too much." He hoped that Hobbes would accept that explanation as the truth, or else he would be in more trouble for lying. He would be here for hours.

Luckily Hobbes bought the story. He held up the pills. "What is in here, anyway? And why did you tear off the label? Is it some big secret?"

Darien shrugged. "It must have gotten wet when it was raining the other day and fell off. It's not a secret, they're kind of a mixture of pills. I don't actually remember the names of them all."

"How many pills do you take every night?" Hobbes exclaimed.

"Um…" Darien didn't really want to go into that right now, so he lied. "Two or three."

Hobbes raised and eyebrow. "You tellin' me the truth?"

Darien nodded. He had had a lot practice lying in his life, he was practically an expert. So Hobbes believed every word of the lie, making Darien feel even guiltier. "Yeah. Look, I don't mean to be rude, but it _is_ 1:30, and I'd like to get some sleep. So…"

"Okay then. Here you go." Hobbes reluctantly handed them to Darien. "I just don't think you should be taking these. You really don't need them."

Darien smiled inwardly at the irony. 'The Pill King' was telling him not to take these. Then again, Hobbes had his prescribed to him. Darien had connections, old friends who got these for him without prescription. That was part of the reason he had tore off the label. But he didn't say anything. "Yeah, I know, but they've been helping me a lot. Anyway, I gotta go. I'll see you at work tomorrow." 

"Yeah, you look like you could use some sleep. C'ya, partner."

Darien nodded. "Thanks, Bobby." That part he said sincerely.

~*~*~

Once he got home, Darien went directly for his bed, so tired but unable to sleep as usual. He knew that he should be taking Hobbes' advice, but he just didn't have the strength to do this without his pills. He changed into a t-shirt and boxers, all the while debating his situation. In the end, he decided to just take the pills. He crawled into bed, and reached onto his night stand for the bottle. Shaking out about 6, he swallowed them, downed them with water, and laid back into bed, his head resting comfortably on the white pillow. He closed his eyes and prayed the tonight he would not have the usual nightmare-filled sleep. 

~*~*~

The morning came quicker than Darien had expected, but he was feeling better than the previous day. He yawned, and clumsily rolled out of bed. Grabbing a cup of coffee, he debated going to work. Not that he had much of a choice to begin with, but he knew Hobbes would want to finish last night's, well, this morning's conversation, and that was not going to be a fun experience.

After he finished his coffee, he decided to go to work. He changed into a black t-shirt and a pair of checkered pants. He sighed, dreading what the day would hold.

"The faster you get there," he muttered to himself, "the faster the day will be over with." He grabbed his suede jacket and went to work.

As soon as he got there, Bobby met him at the entrance. "How y'feeling today, my friend?" He looked genuinely concerned, and Darien felt guilty for lying to him last night.

"I feel good, and I got some good sleep, despite getting home so late… er, early. You know what I mean."

Hobbes patted his back with a smile. "That's great!" Then his smile fell a little. "I assume you took those pills then?"

Darien felt a pain inside, knowing that he was about to disappoint his friend, but he had to tell the truth. "Yeah, I did."

"Fawkes…" he started to say, but Darien shook his head.

"No. Please don't say anything, okay? I know I shouldn't have done that, but I can't help it. You lecturing me isn't going to make me stop."

"You're right, but you can't keep taking these, Fawkes. I'm telling you, it won't end good."

Darien started to go into The Agency. "I know."

The duo was silent until they got into The Keep, and then they both spoke their greetings. 

"'Morning, Claire." 

"Hey, Keepy." Darien was still sounding cheerful, and Claire briefly wondered if Bobby had spoke to him about what was wrong. She knew they had talked about it, they always did. But had they resolved anything?

"Good morning, boys. How are you this morning?" She smiled at them both, pulling her lab coat over her blouse and mini-skirt combination. 

She saw Bobby look over at Darien with an almost sad face, but Darien didn't notice. She knew something was going on between them, and it looked pretty big.

"We're fine," Darien answered with a smile. "So, what's the plan for today? The Fat Man have another job for us?"

"Doesn't he always?" Claire noted. "Actually, I'm not sure what he has planned." She looked closely at Darien, wondering what was wrong. When she couldn't tell, she just asked him. "Are you okay? I don't mean to pry, but it's obvious that something's going on."

Darien shook his head, passing it off as she had expected. "No, nothing's wrong."

She looked at Hobbes for confirmation, but like the friend he was, he said nothing, and hid emotion from his face. Claire sighed. 

"Ok, if you insist." She paused, then continued. "The Official seems to be in a good mood today, for him at least. And he says to come in as soon as you get here."

They both nodded and left Claire to wonder what was really going on. 

On their way down to The Official's office, Hobbes looked at his partner. "Why'd you lie to Claire? She's just worried 'bout you, that's all."

"I know, Hobbes, I just don't want everyone to know about this, okay? It's not a big deal. It's my life, and I don't want everyone to know about this." He watched his feet move on the ground, and noticed that his and Bobby's feet hit the ground at the same pace. He looked up, and stopped as soon as they reached the door.

Hobbes walked in first, and Darien followed. They sat down in front of the older man's desk and Darien leaned back, waiting for another stupid mission. But none came.

"I know you were both looking forward to a job today, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you the day off." Though he was being slightly sarcastic, The Official kept a straight face as he usually did.

Darien raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Why?"

The Official shrugged. "Eberts and I have some paperwork to catch up on, and so there's no use in you two working." Eberts, standing behind him, nodded in agreement.

"In other words, we have no cases?" Fawkes asked knowingly.

Silence.

"That's what I thought. Not that I'm complaining. In fact, I'll see you tomorrow." He got up and left. Hobbes followed, adding a 'thank you, Chief' before leaving. 

"You know, I'm glad we got up early, drove all the way to work, and got to talk to the biggest asshole I know _for no reason_!" Darien exclaimed. He walked fast, anxious to get back in his car and go home. It was typical of The Official to wait until they were all ready and at work to tell them that they had the day off. He was sick of things like that.

"What's wrong, Fawkes? You should be happy that we're getting the day off. Speakin' of which, you wanna do lunch of something?"

Darien shook his head. "Actually, I want to go home, maybe watch some TV."

"Okay. Well then I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Bye, Hobbes." 

When he got home, Darien sat down on the couch and ran his hands down his face, and rested his head between his fingers. He didn't know how to pass the time. It had been awhile since he had a day off. It was a perfect time to catch up on more sleep, but he couldn't do it naturally anymore, nor did he want to, and he wasn't sure how his body would react to withdrawal of those pills.

Without changing into his pajamas, Darien dropped more pills into his hand, more than usual for extra strength, and swallowed them eagerly. He walked into the kitchen, drank some Pepsi, and walked into his room, noticing that his legs began to feel heavier than usual. His eyelids started to get heavy as well, and he felt his air intake decrease. He gasped for breath, clutched his chest trying to breathe. It wasn't working, so he tried to pull himself towards the wall, but fell to the floor, unconscious next to his bed.

~*~*~

Hobbes went to work the next day, and waited for Darien outside of the door to get a minute to talk to his friend alone. But after half an hour, Darien still hadn't shown up. He usually wasn't late, and when he was it was only by a couple minutes. Maybe he had just gotten some good sleep for once. Still, he decided to give him another half hour and then he would call. 

He waited in The Keep with Claire, and finally another half hour passed. He looked over to Claire. "I think somethin's wrong, Keep. I'm gonna call."

Claire nodded, worried that something bad had happened to Darien. She hoped that wasn't the case, but she knew him all too well. Trouble followed him around. She could at least hope it wasn't anything too serious.

Bobby picked up the phone and dialed his friend's number, holding the phone to his ear. After six rings, there was still no answer. He hung up and grabbed his coat. "I'm goin' over there."

"I'm coming too," Claire told him, taking off her white lab coat and placing it on the reclined, dentist-type chair sitting in the middle of the room.

Figuring there wasn't time to object, Hobbes said nothing, and ran out to the van, driving like a maniac straight to Fawkes' apartment. When he reached the door, Bobby was dismayed to find that it was locked. "You know how to pick locks or anything?" He asked Claire.

She shook her head. "No, but I know something better." She pulled out a credit card and swiped it down the inside of the door, then pulled the door open. She placed the card back in her pocket with a smile.

"Nice work," Hobbes said appreciatively. Then he walked in, gun drawn, and saw nothing really out of the ordinary. "Fawkes!" he called into the silent apartment. "You home?"  
There was no answer. He walked further in, and saw the kitchen counter was indented in one spot, and there was a little bit of dried blood on it. "So that's what happened to his hand," he muttered to himself.

"Bobby!" Claire cried from the bathroom. Hobbes rushed in, and saw what she had found. An empty pill bottle. "Do you know anything about this?"

Hobbes looked down. "I… may know a little about it, yeah."

Claire's jaw dropped. "Why didn't you say anything? This could be serious! How could he get a prescription for these if I'm his doctor? Do you even know what was in here?"

She had a point. He hadn't thought about that. Then he realized something. He turned and ran into Darien's bedroom. The body laying on the floor confirmed his fears. "Claire, get the hell in here!" he yelled, bending down to check his pulse.

Claire hurried into the bedroom where she saw Bobby kneeling on the floor next to Darien's limp form. "Oh, God," she claimed. "Is he alive?"

Hobbes nodded. "Yeah, there's a pulse, but it's weak. What do we do?" He was practically shaking, afraid of what was happening. It was his fault, he should have said something earlier. Darien wouldn't be lying on the floor like this. He felt dread creep into him, and he prayed that Darien would live through this. 

"Look, I'm going to need to get him back to The Keep. Can you help me move him into your van?" Claire gently reached under him, and Hobbes helped carry his friend outside and out to the company's beat up brown van. He carefully laid him down, shut the door, and ran to the front, starting the vehicle as fast as he could. Claire stayed in the back, watching over Darien, checking his vitals constantly. 

When they got back to The Keep, Claire immediately laid him down on the chair in the middle, and pulled over some medical objects next to her. "Look, I think you should wait outside. It's going to be pretty crowded, and I need to be able to move around. Besides, there's nothing you can do yet." She looked at him with pleading in her eyes, hoping that this time he wouldn't argue. She couldn't work with Hobbes hovering over her, wanting to make sure his partner was okay. Claire was anxious enough without him.

Bobby looked like he was going to argue, but he stopped himself, knowing he would only be in the way. So he nodded, took one last look at Darien, and sat down right outside of The Keep, resting his head in his hands.

~*~*~

About an hour later, Claire emerged from The Keep, a tired smile on her face. "Well, I think he's doing better, he just needs to sleep a little more."

"Thanks, Keep," Hobbes said. "Can I… can I go in then?"

Claire nodded. "Yeah. Just make sure he stays laying down." She crossed her arms, and sighed, thinking only of her patient. _What would possess him to take so many pills_? she wondered. _Bobby knew about this. Why didn't he say anything?_ _I'm his_ doctor, _I need to know these kinds of things._

She stopped herself, knowing that if Darien hadn't wanted anyone to know, Hobbes wouldn't have told a soul. And it really wasn't his fault, anyway. She knew that. She couldn't stop thinking about it as she walked down the hall, and towards The Official's office to inform him that Darien had arrived.

Bobby walked into The Keep, wanting to walk fast to see what was going on, but afraid that if he sped up, he would see something he didn't want to. He chose a speed somewhere in the middle, and ended up at Darien's side. 

Fawkes looked terrible. There just wasn't a nice way to put it. He was pale, and covered in sweat. He also had his arms and legs chained down. _Must have had convulsions_, Hobbes thought to himself sadly. He couldn't stand to see his partner so vulnerable, so he looked around The Keep until he found keys for the locks. Gently taking the cuffs off of Darien's wrists and ankles, Hobbes felt a pain in his heart for letting his partner have to go through this. He shouldn't have given the pills back. He could have lied, could have done anything. But instead he had willingly contributed to the pain he saw before him.

"Hey, partner," he whispered to Darien, watching his friend's chest rise up and down at a steady pace, taking in shallow breaths. He saw brown eyes flutter open, shut as light hit them, and then open again. Darien blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust to the harsh light provided by the lamp directly over him.

"Hey," a hoarse voice replied. He slowly pulled his body up into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. He looked around the room, confusion evident on his face. "How the hell did I get here?"

"Woah, there, calm down. Me an' The Keep came over to your place cuz you were so late to work. We found you, unconscious on your floor." He looked at Darien accusingly. "You wanna explain that to me, pally?"

Darien looked down, ashamed, fighting a huge headache. He unconsciously rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, and answered, "I don't know. I took too many pills."

"Yeah, that's kind of what I thought," Hobbes said, shaking his head sadly. "I don't get it. I thought you weren't gonna do that anymore."

"I wasn't, Hobbes, I swear. I just… you can't imagine how great it feels to finally be able to sleep without having nightmares of my life. I can't sleep because _my life_ _gives me nightmares_." He smiled slightly at how strange that sounded, and how sad it was that it was all true. "So when I got home last night I was so tired, and I couldn't help myself. I swallowed a handful of pills, and ended up here." 

"Fawkes, you can't fight this by yourself: you need help."

Darien frowned. "I don't want to talk to some shrink, I just want to sleep again."

"That's the point. They'll be able to help you sleep, and get you off of those pills." He saw Darien's reluctant look. "At least do it for me, okay? I don't like seein' you like this."

"Hobbes…" he stopped himself, knowing that if Hobbes wanted him to do this, there was no way he was going to get out of it. And he usually knew what was best for his friends. He decided to trust his partner's judgement, and gave in. "Fine. I'll see a shrink."

Bobby corrected him. "Psychiatrist, Fawkes, Have some respect."

Fawkes rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll go see a _psychiatrist_."

"Thank you. That's all I'm askin'." He patted Darien's hand and stood up. "Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I go and explain this to The Fat Man. Claire says he's pretty pissed that 'his most valuable agent has been taking drugs and endangering the project'."

Darien raised an eyebrow. "'The Project'?"

Hobbes nodded. "'Fraid so, my friend. So I'll come down here after I talk to him. I can refer you to some pretty good psychiatrists."

"Yeah, you'd know," Darien added with a grin. "Oh, and Hobbes? Sorry about getting you involved in all of this. But thanks for your help."

"Anytime, partner. That's what I'm here for."

*~fin~*


End file.
